Carcharoth and the Silmaril
by Finch
Summary: Silmarillion-based. This is what you get when you attempt a recreation of Tolkien's poetic style as found in the Lay of Leithian.


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CARCHAROTH AND THE SILMARIL, presented by Finch

A hitherto unknown fragment of the Lay of Leithian, recovered by A.Nesnop and R. Kniv, scholars of the University of Unquendor in the Lower Marshes of Middle-earth. (Who recovered what remains a matter of conjecture.) To be temporarily superimposed on the unfinished Canto XIV as found in The Lays of Beleriand, HoMe, Volume 3. It must be observed that the perpetrator, or perpetrators, unknown have heavily based themselves on the works of Master Scholar J.R.R. Tolkien. 

A terror stark, and naked dread

fell upon them, and so they fled,

Beren and Lúthien, with the gem,

and no one moved to hinder them.

Through many a room unlit they sped

heedless, and their disguises shed.

The arts of Lúthien were unmade:

no wing of bat, nor wolfish shade

sped through those caves: instead there ran

the graceful forms of Elf and Man.

One single urge upheld their flight:

their wish once more to see the light,

to cast the darkness from their eyes

and gaze upon clear northern skies.

No creature marked their passing feet

and none pursued them. But to meet

the fugitives before the Gate,

his eyes ablaze with boundless hate,

Carcharoth on the threshold stood,

most fell 'mongst all of Morgoth's brood.

And ere the two became aware

of that grim wolf-hound's wrothful glare,

he spied them, and with dripping fang

as they ran by, upon them sprang. 

Lúthien, now, was tired, spent.

The magic that her power lent

had all been used in that last spell:

she stumbled forward and she fell.

She sensed the shadow of that shape:

the wolf, that barred their escape.

She smelled his foul and stinking breath

and then she thought: 'So this is death.'

She was so weak now, she resigned,

but still some voice inside her mind

suggested words in ancient tongue,

beginnings of a mighty song.

But as she tried, the words just slurred;

she looked up, but her vision blurred.

How could she now that beast defy?

Then she heard: 'Get you gone and fly!'

She felt how Beren past her swept

and with two great strides forward leapt,

attacked the wolf with his full will.

His right hand clutched the Silmaril.

He held aloft the gem he won

and cried out: 'Flee, and get you gone!'

The light that shone ere Elves and Men,

ere Sun and Moon existed, then

leapt forth with Beren; in his gaze

was mirrored that eternal blaze.

'Here is the all-consuming fire

before which evil must retire.

Beware, fell wolf, that you don't spurn

the cleansing flame, or you will burn! 

But Carcharoth, undaunted, stared

at the white jewel as it flared;

he did not flinch before its sheen.

And while his heart before had been

a cauldron filled with smouldering ire,

it now awoke to burning fire,

and suddenly his gaping jaws,

with rows of teeth sharper than saws,

enclosed upon both hand and gem,

bit off them, and devourèd them

as if another bent his will

to feed on Fëanor's Silmaril.

But with a flame of deadly fear

the stone his inmost part did sear,

scorching his flesh, accursed and foul.

Then Carcharoth sent up a howl

of pain, of bottomless dismay

and turned his tail, and sped away.

The mountain-face above the dales

echoed the clamour of his wails.

To such a strength his madness grew

that every living thing he slew

that found itself upon his path

to be the victim of his wrath.

So all the creatures Morgoth bred

in terror from the valley fled

and hid themselves from where he raged

as if a war 'gainst them he waged.

Then Morgoth's hell-warg from the North

with ruin upon the world burst forth,

and of the terrors that of old

the lands of Endor did behold

before the day of Angband's fall

his madness was the worst of all,

most dreadful of all fears of yore,

because the burden that he bore

within him, Fëanor's Silmaril, 

filled him with light against his will.

Within the Gate lay Beren, swooned,

his life-blood oozing from the wound.

The treacherous venom that had lurked

in the wolf's deadly fangs, now worked

its way into his veins, and nigh

drew now the hour that he would die.

But Lúthien crept up by his side

and though her powers failed her, tried

to bring him back to life. She drew

first with her lips the poison out. Anew

gripped was she by anxiety,

for this might well their parting be.

She sang a feeble healing song

while in the lower caves the throng

of Morgoth's fearsome creatures crept

up from the places where they slept.

A murmur, then a rumour grew.

it was perceived by Lúthien, who

sang louder. Down the corridor

the sounds of wrath grew more and more.

Awakened now were all that dozed,

that most abominable host.

't Was likely now that all too soon

the noble quest would end in ruin.

The stone gone, Beren dead, so there

was nothing left but dark despair.

But Lúthien's song, mixed with the cries

of Morgoth's monsters, reached the skies,

where two great eagles and their lord

on journey northward high up soared.

They now appeared on outstretched wing

Over the valley's wall to bring

more swiftly than the wind indeed

the rescue in that hour of need.

A watch had kept the king of birds,

Thorondor, mindful of the words

of Huan, truest of all hounds.

So when he heard below him sounds

of terror and of wrath from both

the foaming mouth of Carcharoth

and from the mouth of that dark cave,

he came down rapidly to save,

Carefully lifting Lúthien.

His vassals took the wounded man.

They bore them up into the clouds...

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And here endeth the fragment. 

PS: Those familiar with the extant Lay will no doubt see why it was discarded by the compiler.

PPS: A. Nesnop and R. Kniv really exist; they were not invented by Finch.


End file.
